History Lessons
by Bloodpage-Alchemist
Summary: Children are products of their environment. A look at what Dudley Dursley could have been under the right influences, namely that of his History teacher and new friends, and what could have happened due to those changes...
1. The First Step

History was not Dudley Dursley's favorite subject.

Actually, to be blunt, he hated it. The Magna Carta, the various wars... it was boring. What did any of it matter? All it was good for was sleeping through. As far as Dudley was concerned, if he never had to attend another history class again, he would be happy. Who cared about a bunch of dead folks, after all? Dudley liked the living, he enjoyed the present.

Music, friends, entertainment—_that_ was what mattered to him, not some stuffy old blokes in books.

History was for nerds, losers, geeks—those people, yes, but not people like Dudley. Therefore, it had no place in his world.

Well... not until Mr. Gawlinski showed up.

It was the fourth period of his first day of secondary school. The course was called Roman to Medieval British History, and Dudley would have skipped it altogether if it wasn't mandatory. He figured he would make the best of a bad situation, bringing his CD player and a few comics with him. That complete, he headed to Room 112.

After taking his usual seat, at the back of the room where he wouldn't be caught for not listening, Dudley munched on some chocolate and waited for enough students to be in the room to block him from the teacher's view. Then he got ready for some serious fooling around.

The bell rang and then he entered the classroom. The entire class of thirty-five eleven-year-olds, all of whom had been talking and joking a moment before, instantly fell silent. And it wasn't surprising. This man had a presence that demanded instant respect and even Dudley could see that women would find the man attractive.

He looked about thirty or so, about six feet tall and had a strong, athletic body. His hair was straight and thick and as dark as a chestnut tree's trunk. His eyes were as oceanic as the ocean, and his skin was light, but not pale. And he wasn't like the other teachers in matters of dress. He didn't have jeans, or loafers, or corduroys... no, this man wore a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, an expensive looking silk tie, and polished oxford style shoes. And his voice... it was deep and instantly commanding. Even at a near whisper, he spoke with incredible power and authority, causing everyone to pay attention.

"Good morning class. My name is Mr. Gawlinski," He said, with a small smile. "I'll be teaching you British history this semester, but I don't think it will be history as you've learned it before." He paused, looking around the classroom here, and his eyes seemed to meet Dudley's as he paced slowly and purposefully around the front of the room. "History is not just names and dates in a book," Gawlinski continued, "It is about life, how it was lived and, most importantly, why we live the way we do here and now."

Dudley perked up a bit here—finally, a teacher who spoke his language! He could agree with that statement.

"We will be exploring nearly a thousand years of British life, from the year 43 until 1485," Gawlinski said, his voice sure and steady. "And we will do this by sharing experiences with the people who actually lived during those times. We will share their hopes, their dreams, their triumphs and their disappointments. When we are finished, you will no longer just see yourself as Thomas Drake—" he indicated a boy in the front row.

"Or Jack Carter—"

He pointed to a boy two rows back.

"Or Dudley Dursley." And he pointed directly to Dudley.

"You will see that you are part of a great continuum." He sat on the edge of his desk, his eyes still focused on Dudley, "You will learn that your lives intimately connect with the lives of all the people around you, with all the people who came before you, and with all the people who have yet to be born. You will see that every action you take affects both the present and the future. You will learn to celebrate the miracle that is your life."

Dudley was enthralled by the speech and curious, something he had never been in school before. Of all the subjects to take an interest to, he hadn't expected it to be history.

For the rest of the forty-two minute class, he paid attention like he'd never paid attention before. He, and his classmates, stared in awe as Gawlinski talked about the founding of London. As he spoke in words and images that Dudley had never before encountered, he began to feel like he had been part of that incredible building. He felt the pain and fear of the Roman soldiers, as they attempted to build a civilization and fight the natives, the joy at the end of the long-lasting battle to conquer Wales, the building of Hadrian's Wall, the defeat of Scotland. For all intents and purposes, Dudley was a Roman.

When the bell rung and it was time to move onto the next class, Dudley felt sad, as if leaving behind compatriots and people he had known. He looked at his classmate to his right and could see that she felt the same way. Both of them felt a bit weak and they stumbled towards the door.

"See you tomorrow, Dudley, Adrian?" Gawlinski asked as they shuffled past his desk.

Both of them shared looks and looked back at the man, "Oh yes," both students said, grinning as they left.

When lunch came around and Dudley spoke to his friends about Gawlinski and the interest he had started to take in history, his friends stared at him as if they had never seen him before. The more he went on about the subject, the more irritated his friends became until Piers, Dudley's best friend, could take no more.

"Are you mad?" He inquired, munching on a sandwich, "You are talking about history. Nobody who's anybody cares about that subject."

"It's not like that," Dudley tried to explain. "It's Gawlinski's history class. I mean... when he talks about the past... it's like..."

"Like?" Piers demanded.

"Like he actually lived there."

"Oh come off it!" Laughter from Gordon, who shook his head, "Really D, listen to yourself!"

"I'm serious!" Dudley said, clenching his giant hand. "And it's… he makes us feel like we lived there. Like right now... I could tell you what the Romans ate in between fights. I can practically draw diagrams on Hadrian's wall. And I know how it feels to lose a comrade in battle."

"Who cares?" Piers asked, rolling his eyes. "Those people are all dead. I care about the living—and lunch!" He took a large gulp of his juice as he said this.

The others laughed in agreement but Dudley shot him a venomous look, "You should care," he said, "without them, we wouldn't have our language, quite a few roads, laws—"

The others groaned and rolled their eyes and Malcolm spoke, "D, man," he laughed, "whatever you say, fine. But I think Piers is right: lunch is more important right now. I'm starved." With that everyone nodded and began eating lunch.

"Oi, watch this," Dennis said with a grin and turned, using his Smelting stick to hit another student across the knees, making said student stumble, causing his custard to go all over him. Dudley laughed with the others as the smaller boy stood, until a voice spoke.

"I don't find this amusing."

Dudley looked to see Gawlinski standing there, eyes roaming over the table. The laughter died.

"It was just a joke," Piers mumbled, not recognizing the teacher.

"It wasn't a very funny one," Gawlinski retorted. He looked at them all again, and Dudley looked down, not wanting to see the disappointment in the man's eyes. It had just been a joke… "Right. You lot have detention. Colin, go get cleaned up."

The other boy nodded and ran off, Gawlinski walked away and Dennis glowered. "Detention!? Who does that git think he is?"

"I don't know," Piers said, shrugging.

"That's Gawlinski," Dudley answered quietly.

"Him?" Malcolm scoffed. "Well, he's a jerk. Glad he's not my teacher."

Dudley faked a smile and nodded, unsure about what to say to that.

The day finished all too quickly and soon Dudley was in Gawlinski's office with his friends, awaiting detention.

The man looked at them, indicating Piers, Malcolm and Dennis, "You three will be helping in the kitchen. Perhaps making food will give you a greater appreciation for it. You two," this was said as he indicated Dudley and Gordon, "will be cleaning."

Cleaning? Dudley couldn't even remember the last time he had had to _clean_. But he knew protesting wouldn't help. He nodded while the others glowered but did the same.

And so a few minutes later, Dudley found himself in the gym, cleaning up. _Ugh._ It smelled. He felt sick having to be here. The body odor was horrible and the bleach he used wasn't really helping.

"We aren't janitors," Gordon complained.

"It's our detention," Dudley said.

"Well that teacher can sod off. Detentions are supposed to be lines or something." The other boy threw his rag back in the bucket. "Come on, let's go."

"I don't want another detention for not doing this one," Dudley answered. "I'll just say you're in the bathroom if someone asks."

Gordon grinned, "Thanks." He left quickly while Dudley persisted in cleaning and serving his detention, curious about the equipment he was cleaning.

Many breaks and panting and sweating later, Dudley heard the door open.

"I think you learned your lesson," Gawlinski's voice said quietly, making Dudley look over at him. "Unlike your friends, who all complained to the Headmaster and now have to serve a week's worth of detentions copying lines."

Dudley swallowed hard, unsure about what to say to that. _All_ of them had complained? Even Gordon? How stupid could someone be? Dudley had said he'd cover for him.

"The room looks good. You did a good job." The teacher looked at Dudley, eyes practically boring into him. When Gawlinski spoke, he was calm, but his tone demanded attention and Dudley looked at him. "Mistakes are how we learn, Dudley. Hurting someone for amusement is not funny. It is cruel. It degrades you as a man."

No one in his life had ever said that before.

If anything, his parents and aunt... they had all encouraged Dudley's behavior. His friends too, of course. He was a Dursley, and Dursleys "didn't take crap from anybody," as his father would say.

"But it was just a joke," Dudley said, shrugging. "We weren't bullying him."

The man looked at him intently, as if he were studying Dudley. "Would you have liked it if that had happened to you? If someone in a group attacked you and humiliated you in front of everyone? And you can't fight back because you are outnumbered."

"We have the Smelting sticks for a reason," Dudley mumbled back, fidgeting. "It's good training for later in life." That was what his father had said, wasn't it?

"Yes," Gawlinski said quietly. "It's good training for _restraint."_

The boy looked at him with confusion.

"It isn't for hitting others when you think no one is looking, Dudley. It is a reminder of balance, similar to a cane, and restraint. Many times in this life you will be angry and have the ability to express this, be it physically or in other ways. In giving you all something that is like a weapon, you are being taught to _not_ use it. To use logic even when you want to give in and beat something."

Dudley looked down, unsure of what to say to this.

"Trust me, Dudley," the man said quietly, making him look up. "Detention on the second day of school is not good. That behavior is not what you want to be known for." The man gave him a smile. "Now get yourself cleaned up. Your supper is waiting."

"Thank you, sir," Dudley said, nodding and shuffling off as quickly as he could. His stomach was grumbling but he was still miserable and smelly from his detention.

He made his way back to the dorm and took a shower. He was too tired to eat and so he made his way to the dorm and just fell asleep.

The next morning he was starving and so he was down in the cafeteria a bit earlier than usual. His friends joined him afterwards. "I can't believe you didn't just complain and get lines," Malcolm said, shaking his head and eating his bacon.

Dudley shrugged, "A day is better than a week."

"If you say so, D," he replied, looking at his schedule. Dudley did the same and soon the group separated for classes.

The next few days were typical class ones, though his friends managed to get him into another cleaning detention for throwing books in the library… and then _another_ one for making a boy fall down the steps.

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, Dudley," Gawlinski had said as he watched the boy clean the workout area yet again.

"What does that mean?" Dudley asked, panting.

"It means that sometimes you have to start small to achieve great things," the teacher explained. "Perhaps… obtaining the courage to distance yourself from certain people could be an example for you."

Dudley sighed, "Mr. Gawlinski—they're my friends. They don't _mean_ to get anyone into trouble. People here are just too strict."

The teacher gave him an almost pitying look, making Dudley turn his head and determinedly clean. His friends were funny and liked him. They weren't bullies or anything, they were just having a bit of fun. Everyone did it.

It was the last week of September, and Dudley had actually managed five consecutive days without any detentions, when Gawlinski announced everyone in class would be doing presentations on something that was covered so far in lessons. He passed out the requirements and the bell rang afterwards, signaling the end of the period.

Dudley took a minute to look at the assignment that Gawlinski had assigned and glanced at the clock. His next class was swimming, one class he shared with his friends. Mrs. Haddock, the instructor, was nice. She probably wouldn't penalize him for being late when it was a legitimate reason…

And he _was_ actually doing very well in history.

"May I help you?" Gawlinski asked, giving Dudley a smile.

He would just ask the teacher for a note. "Yes, I was curious about what we can do for the presentation. I know it says 'Be Creative' on the paper, but I really can't think of anything."

Gawlinski nodded, thinking. "Well, what do you enjoy?"

"Games," Dudley answered truthfully, thinking. "And watching shows on the telly…"

The man nodded and smiled, "How about a news report then? The video department head will be glad someone is taking an interest and if you're careful, I'm sure she'll help you."

A news report? Dudley thought for a few minutes before jotting this down on the assignment sheet. "Perhaps a 'Live from Hadrian's Wall' broadcast…" He jotted more, a bit interested now at the concept. "Thank you, sir."

Gawlinski smiled. "You're welcome. Now then, what class are you supposed to be in?"

"Mrs. Haddock's class. Swimming."

"I'll walk you—I have a free period and I would hate for her to think the note may be forged."

Dudley smiled, relieved, and walked with the man, the two discussing possible ways Dudley could do his project, and just as they reached the pool, the school nurse ran by them inside, the headmaster following after.

They entered quickly, Dudley confused, and he saw Haddock helping one of his classmates, who was coughing and soaked.

His friends were standing away from the others in the class. Everything was silent except for the lapping of the water in the pool.

"What happened?" The headmaster asked.

Mrs. Haddock stood, pointing at Piers, Gordon, Malcolm and Dennis. "_They_," she said furiously, "thought it would be amusing to push him," and here she indicated the student she had been helping, "into the pool and not let him come up for air!"

The headmaster frowned severely. "I see. My office then. All of you."

Piers looked at Dudley, who was looking back at them, and the headmaster turned. "Were you involved in planning this?" He asked Dudley.

Dudley shook his head, still quite confused. "N-No, they're just my friends…"

The headmaster looked at Gawlinski, who nodded, "He was with me. It's why I walked him here, I didn't want Joyce to think he had a forged note or the like."

"Would you mind taking the class for a study period, then? I'll need Mrs. Haddock in my office so we can have things done quickly."

"Of course headmaster." Gawlinski looked over the class, "Uniforms on, meet me in my classroom, room 112. Hurry up now."

The rest of the class scurried away while the headmaster nodded and left with Dudley's friends and Mrs. Haddock. The school nurse left with the person they had almost drowned, who was still coughing slightly. Dudley watched them leave, wondering what would happen. Detention? For some reason he doubted them writing lines would suffice for this.

Perhaps suspension, then? That was certainly strict…

He followed Gawlinski back to the classroom he had just left, thinking about what could happen.

Over dinner, Dudley learned the verdict: expulsion.

"Bullying has never been and will never be tolerated here at Smeltings Academy. We teach you to be honorable men and not bullies."

The boy would be spending the night in the hospital—the nurse had been concerned over something.

But _expulsion_ for a _joke? _Yes, it had been a bit over the top, but Dudley was surprised that they were actually _expelled._

But that wasn't bullying, what his friends had done… just a good laugh, they wouldn't have drowned anyone…

It was just things similar to what they did in primary school. Nobody had cared back then, they had just laughed. Nobody had ever called them _bullies_. Nobody had ever been expelled for it…

Or had other people been too afraid to speak up?

And so the boy started off his October feeling quite lonely and confused. He would just get a small lunch from the cafeteria. Being by himself in there wasn't much fun. He would eat his lunch quickly and then go to the gym or library or computer room. Sometimes other students would hassle him now too, perhaps bored or perhaps because his friends had put a classmate in the hospital.

'_Hey Piggy, that's my seat!'_

'_I can't understand oinking, sorry.'_

'_Someone call the wildlife foundation, we found a beached whale!'_

After he had gotten a detention for hitting someone and starting a fight because their friends jumped in, Gawlinski told him to just ignore the comments and they would die down.

Dudley tried, but it was very hard to do and he didn't like it very much. He had taken to avoiding places with the other students whenever possible and it wasn't even a week that his friends had been gone! Some places he couldn't avoid though—bathrooms, classes and the lunch room.

Like now. He had gone through hell trying to get to the lunch line and not beat someone with a tray.

It was going to be a miserable next few years, he was sure of it. The thought was interrupted by a voice.

"Y-You could eat with me, if you want," Jake Christie said nervously, standing behind him.

Dudley turned, surprised. He hadn't eaten in the cafeteria for a while now. Jake seemed nice enough, though. He was smart, top of their class, and usually in the library or computer room.

"S-Sure," Dudley said, nodding. He was surprised and a bit pleased. He hadn't expected anyone to want his company. He followed the bespectacled boy to a table and sat.

The two ate in silence for a bit before Jake spoke, "I… I see you in the computer room sometimes."

Dudley nodded, "I see you too." He paused, "You're really good with computers. I don't know how to use a lot of the things on these. The only things I know are games!"

Jake grinned, "I like reading and stuff, but I _love_ video games."

Dudley perked up a bit and immediately asked, "What's your favorite?"

The discussion quickly led into various different games and soon the two had to hurry for class. But after the school day ended, they met again in the computer room, Dudley watching Jake play a chess game.

"How do you even _play_ that?" Dudley groaned, watching. "Isn't it boring?"

"Chess? I love it! Makes you think," Jake said. "You never played?"

Feeling a bit stupid, Dudley shook his head.

"There's a chess club here. Want to check it out? I always did but was nervous to go alone…" Jake trailed off, perhaps thinking he said too much.

Part of Dudley wanted to scoff. Only nerds played chess and the like. But Jake had been nice to him. And he had felt lonely without his friends. And well, the other boy seemed to like the same video games...

"All right," Dudley said, shrugging. "Let's take a look."

Jake grinned at him and the two managed to find their way to the rather busy chess club's room. To Dudley's surprise, Gawlinski seemed to be the moderator.

"Good afternoon," he said to them, making them both reply immediately. One of Jake's classmates called him over, obviously wanting to play. Jake glanced at Dudley, who nodded, and he watched the other boy leave.

"Do you play?" Gawlinski inquired politely, making Dudley turn to look at him.

The boy shook his head. "No, sir." He paused and said hurriedly, "I mean, I... I've never played..."

"Then let us rectify this. Chess is a fascinating game with a long rich history." The teacher beckoned for Dudley to follow, and he did, watching Gawlinski set up a board. "It evolved from a game called 'shatranj,' which originated in Persia and India. Fascinating places. Persia is the old name for the country known as Iran today. It is a country in Western Asia." The man looked at Dudley with a smile.

"Have you been there?" Dudley asked, rather curious.

"I've been all around," Gawlinski admitted with a nod. "But there is nothing like having a place to come back to. Now then, let me explain the rules... this is the pawn. The pawn is the most basic piece. On your first move, it can move forward one or two spaces, but it is only allowed to move forward by one space afterwards. Pawns are only allowed to attack other pieces one space diagonally from it, and cannot move backwards. Like so." The teacher demonstrated, making Dudley blink. Just that and he was already confused...

"Now this is the rook," Gawlinski said, holding up a piece that looked like a castle tower. "It can move horizontally and vertically as many spaces as are available. It can attack pieces in its path." Once more the teacher demonstrated and Dudley had the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that those whispers he had always heard when he was younger were right: he was an idiot, a "pig on two legs," some people would whisper...

"Dudley?" Gawlinski looked at him.

"The rook moves like this..." Dudley mimicked the motion, "And pawns move one space forward but not the first time and attack diagonally."

The man smiled. "Excellent. Well then—this is the knight." He showed Dudley a piece that looked like a horse. "It's actually a bit odd. It moves in 'L' shapes that consist of two spaces horizontally then one space vertically, or one space horizontally then two spaces vertically, in any direction. The knight is the only piece that can jump other pieces. It attacks only the pieces that are in the spaces it stops at."

Dudley had a sinking suspicion he would never truly understand chess.

"This is the bishop," Gawlinski said, holding up a piece that made Dudley think of a cone. "It can only move diagonally, but it can move an unlimited amount of spaces until it attacks."

The boy nodded, trying to keep it all straight in his mind. It wasn't easy work...

"Now this is the queen," the teacher stated, holding up a piece with a circle atop it. "It is the most powerful piece. It can move either horizontally, vertically, or diagonally by any number of spaces and attack from any of those directions."

Okay. Dudley liked that. The queen piece seemed pretty cool.

"And this," Gawlinski finished, "is the king." He showed the piece with a small cross atop it. "It can only move one space each turn in any direction and attacks in the same manner. It is the piece you do not want to lose at all costs, as it will make you lose the game."

Dudley nodded; relatively easy. Don't lose the king.

"Ready to play?" The teacher smiled.

"S-Sure..."

"Well, white always moves first in chess so go ahead."

Quite nervous, Dudley moved a pawn and soon he was thinking hard, focusing on moving his pieces. It was hard, and more then once, he honestly wanted to throw a tantrum and throw the board.

He had a feeling that it wouldn't be taken well though, and he refrained... barely.

Gawlinski won the game but encouraged Dudley to play another game with him, citing the "best out of three." A bit miserable about it and his head hurting from having thought more than usual, Dudley agreed.

He played again, not winning the second game either, but a bit more comfortable with the pieces and the game. Gawlinski played with him until a student offered, and before Dudley knew it, he had been in the room for hours!

He helped everyone clean up and was about to leave when Gawlinski called him. The boy looked up, Jake looking over too as the others left.

"I was wondering if you would be interested in boxing," Gawlinski said. "You were good at cleaning the equipment and it seems like something you would enjoy."

Him? Boxing? Dudley liked the thought, actually...

"It will be a lot of hard work if you want to be decent at it though," Gawlinski warned.

"I'll think about it," Dudley said with a grin. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. Now both of you, enjoy dinner." The teacher smiled and Dudley left with Jake.

As the two walked, Jake spoke, "Thanks. For coming with me, I mean. It was fun."

"I liked it," Dudley said, realizing, to his great surprise, that he wasn't lying. Sure it had been hard, but he had liked knowing the game better. "Do you think the boxing thing is a good idea?"

Jake nodded, "You look like you'd be good at it. But homework will be really hard to squeeze in, won't it?"

Dudley blinked. _Homework?_ He shrugged, "Just make something up, nobody really cares."

"Are you mad?" the other boy inquired, adjusting his glasses. "Grades matter very much if you want to get into a good university. Even with sports and the like you need a certain average!"

"University is years away!" Dudley laughed at the thought.

"And they'll look this far back," Jake said, looking quite serious as they entered the line to get their food.

"But I'm rubbish at homework and all that boring stuff," Dudley said, looking and feeling a bit nervous. He didn't know what he wanted to do, but he did know university probably would factor into it.

"We're in different sets," Jake said, thinking. "We can finish up supper and go to the library. I can help you, if you want."

"Really?" Dudley nodded. "The work is hard..."

"We'll finish and get cracking on it," the other boy said with a nod.

Dudley grinned and the two quickly finished their supper, heading to the library. Homework was easier—Jake was good at explaining it. The two worked on all their assignments, Jake emphasizing that getting them done earlier gave them more time later to have fun.

Truthfully, Dudley doubted it, but it felt good having that load off his mind when he went to sleep _and_ Jake had found him a book about boxing training!

When the library closed, the two went to their separate dorms and promising to meet for breakfast. Dudley had borrowed the boxing training book, reading it with interest before bed. He actually set his alarm to be up earlier than usual since the book suggested running.

The next morning, Dudley learned it was _much_ easier to read about working out than doing it. Not even fifteen minutes of using a treadmill and he was soaked... as for pushups and situps he hadn't even managed to finish a set! He was exhausted and sweaty and it hadn't even been thirty minutes. He showered and met Jake for breakfast, a bit embarrassed. How could he have ever thought he would be decent at boxing?

"Well, you just started," Jake said when Dudley mentioned his horrible workout. "You have to keep at it if you want results."

The same thing was stated when Dudley mentioned it to Gawlinski briefly after class.

"It will be very hard for the first few months," the teacher said. "Come after school to the workout room and more people will be there to help you. Everyone was a beginner at some point."

Partially thinking it would be useless but also figuring that boxing would be pretty cool, Dudley nodded and left the classroom.

The school day passed by pretty quickly and Dudley went to the workout room. The people in there smiled at him and Dudley felt a little better; he had expected stares or something, to be honest. He tried the running again and it was similar to last time. He was soaked and miserable in a few minutes.

"Treadmill is tough," an older student said, seeing him. "You're doing good, though. Drink some water and give it another go."

Dudley nodded, panting, and after a few breaks, finished his run. They spotted him for his situps and pushups, nobody saying anything mean when he took his breaks, panting heavily and sweating.

He was tired after two pushups and running, things everyone else seemed to do with ease. Dudley had never cared about his size before but goodness, he was having a hard time with working out. He blushed with pushups because his belly brushed the floor and he couldn't complete a situp.

But he continued stubbornly until he finished ten of each that day, making the ones watching him cheer encouragingly.

After a shower, the rather exhausted Dudley found Jake in the computer room. "What's that?" He inquired curiously, looking at the odd screen and Jake typing.

"Oh," the boy said, blushing a bit. "I'm trying to make a game..."

"You know how to do that?" Dudley was stunned. He loved playing games, but making them had never crossed his mind.

"Oh yes, here, take a look. It's a simple 'break the bricks' game..." Jake showed Dudley what he was doing and Dudley was fascinated by it. All of these odd codes made his games?

That was _cool._

"I'd love to make a bigger game than this," Jake admitted. "But I don't know what."

Dudley thought for a moment, "We both liked 'Smash Crush Destroy 3'... maybe something like that?"

"It'd be hard to do... and the school might not like it." Jake grinned.

A furrowed brow as Dudley thought hard. School approved game... "What about history? That has lots of interesting events. Maybe something from there? Then a little violence can be okay since it's based on something real."

Jake looked at him with surprise and grinned, "That... that might work... but what..."

"We'll figure it out," Dudley said, making Jake nod.

"We should write this down so we don't forget. And you'll have to learn about programming too."

With a half-heated groan, Dudley followed Jake to the library, where his friend began to get some basic books on the subject for him.

With so many things now, Dudley and Jake were busy most of the time. With their classes, homework, chess, boxing, swimming and their mission to make a computer game, Dudley could scarcely believe how fast the first school holiday had come. With Jake's tutoring, Dudley's grades were noticeably improved and he felt _good_ about it.

It was astonishing, to say the least. But the work was interesting and he had help… for so long he had laughed at "nerds with high marks," that he felt stupid. As if getting good grades were an offense…

But yes, Dudley was a bit proud of his marks. And he hoped his parents were too—he was sure the school notified them. But the boy was also a bit worried—his uniform no longer really fit him.

It was loose and he had been forced to make new holes in his belt to keep his trousers from falling off! His clothes were a bit saggy and it was a little embarrassing.

At least the first school holiday was soon, and so Dudley knew that much could be fixed. A few days later, their parents came to get everyone and he exchanged phone numbers with Jake, along with email. They were working on a project together for fun, a history based game.

Gawlinski was helping them with it too, and the teacher had given them his email. He stated he would be checking for it and expected to hear from them, and expected Dudley to keep up with his training.

Dudley had nodded and left with his parents.

Over the holiday, after telling what felt like everyone in the country about his grades, his Mum had him fitted at the tailor's for his uniform. He was glad he had kept some of his old clothes, because all of the ones he was used to were a bit loose on him.

His visit home made him want to groan. His father kept asking when his first match would be, ignoring Dudley's repeated explanations of he was still training, and his mother kept offering him sweets and ignoring him when he stated he was on a diet!

Dudley knew that he couldn't just toss the sweets—his mother would find them and he didn't want to waste good sweets. But he knew that he couldn't eat them or he'd ruin his hard work! What could he do?

A gentle tap at his window made him look up. His cousin's pet bird?

Dudley blushed, remembering how he had treated Harry. He had been on the receiving end of it for a while after his friends had left.

It hadn't been pleasant.

And now thinking about it… his detentions, he had hated them. Cleaning and cooking and everything—and Harry had been forced to do everything his entire life.

Dudley felt ashamed at that realization. He had been a stupid git, pure and simple.

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." Gawlinski had said it time and time again. And Dudley knew how small groups tended to start huge changes.

It was a small step, yes, but it was better than nothing. He took out his pen and paper.

_Dear Harry,  
__I had a lot of sweets left over and thought you might like some. I'm in some sports at school and they're a bit against the diet plan, so maybe you could enjoy them for me? I hope magic school is going as well for you as Smeltings is for me.  
__Sincerely,  
__Dudley_

The boy looked at the owl, confused, and held out the paper sack with the note inside.

The owl hooted and nipped his finger gently, not hard at all. Dudley thought it was almost… affectionate. The owl then gripped the sack with the sweets and his letter inside before flying off.

Pleased now, since the sweets wouldn't go to waste and he had tried to bridge that gap with a small step, Dudley began to study.

* * *

_**A/N: Another story, another note :0) I do hope all of you reading this enjoyed reading enough to review!  
So as you can see, I've redone this fic a fair bit, giving it more details and the like. Odds are very high it will be made into an actual story with more chapters for later, but I am very busy with work and I am still writing various other things, especially the "A Time for Changeling" story. If you read that as well, chapter 16 is about halfway finished.  
Now, for those of you that still want the original, have no fear-it is on my blog under "fic things" to download. The link to the blog is in the bio.  
Thank you all! **_


	2. Reaction

It was a few days after he was back in school, returning to his bed a bit late after a tiring workout when he noticed the feather laying across his pillow with a rather plump envelope.

_Mr. Dudley Dursley_ was written on it in a rather untidy scrawl.

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in dark blue ink. There was no stamp. Dudley looked at it—the flap was tucked in. He opened it, blinking as a small bag of "Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans" fell out and turned his attention to the letter that fell out as well. It was a bit splotchy, like ink drops had fallen on the page, and the untidy scrawl from the front of the envelope was evident here too.

_Dear Dudley,_

_Thank you for the sweets. I really missed Mars Bars. The sweets here are different than what we're used to, but they're rather good. I sent you some to try. But be careful—they really are __every__ flavour, not just normal ones like chocolate and peppermint, but odd ones like dirt, grass, liver... it's very odd, quite an adventure while eating!_

_Hogwarts is really interesting. I can't believe it's November already! Like you, I'm in a sport—well, on the house team, but I really like my classes a lot too. Well, except potions but the teacher is a git. And history. The teacher puts everyone to sleep. And Defense is odd. But the other classes are amazing._

_Let me know what you think about the sweets. And thanks for writing. I'm not used to getting mail. It was a pleasant surprise._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry_

_PS: Sorry if it's a bit hard to read. I'm still getting used to writing with quills!_

Dudley grinned and put the letter and candy into his trunk before trotting to the shower. When he returned, he could see Harry's pet owl waiting for him. Nobody else was around.

She hooted.

"You're a really smart bird," Dudley said, peering at her curiously.

The hoot seemed much more pleased this time.

Dudley sat down and opened the letter, taking out some paper and his pen to reply... after trying the sweets of course. His cousin was right—they were quite an adventure.

"Bleeeeh! Soap!" Dudley said, making a face at one bean and wrinkling his nose.

The owl, whom he had been sharing the sweets with, hooted in agreement and Dudley was quite sure she had wrinkled her feathers as she hopped away from the offending jellybean.

One little bag wouldn't hurt, he was sure, but he wouldn't eat it all in one go. He had a few, shared with the snowy owl of course, and put the rest back in his trunk before starting to write a reply.

_Dear Harry,_

_The sweets were very interesting. I had chocolate, strawberry, coconut and one that I think was soap. Very disturbing._

_My classes are pretty decent, but my favourite is history. Our teacher is amazing—the idea of falling asleep in his class is funny. But you can't have him! He's ours! And you have defense classes? Any specific kinds? I've started boxing but that's listed as a sport, not a class._

_Your bird seems pretty smart. She seems to know when I'm by myself... and she was smart enough to make sure I had showered first! After a workout is not a good time to be around me. Very smelly._

_You're in sports too? I'm in boxing, like I said, and swimming, but I'm in other non-sport things too, like chess and my friend is teaching me more about computers. We're trying to make a game. I never knew so much work went into making aliens to blast!_

_Thanks again for the sweets._

_Sincerely,_

_Dudley_

"Here you go," He said, putting it in an envelope and handing it to the bird, who hooted and took it. Dudley paused a moment, re-reading the letter. "Actually... would you mind waiting a moment?"

The bird hooted and made itself comfortable and Dudley checked his watch before making a run to the school's gift shop. Panting, because he had quite literally run to the shop before it closed, he looked around for the item he was going to purchase.

"Hey Dudley," Gawlinski's voice echoed from nearby him, making the panting boy turn towards his teacher, who gave him a smile. "Putting in another evening run? You don't want to overstress your muscles, you know."

"Hey Mr. Gawlinski," Dudley answered back, smiling as well. "No, it's not another evening run, I just wanted to get here before closing. My cousin goes to another boarding school and I have something left over from allowance, so I figured I'd get him something from here. He mentioned needing a new pen."

"That's nice of you," the man said, nodding. "How old is he?"

"My age," Dudley answered.

"Well, if you want to send something from Smeltings, perhaps the city desk set? It's rather practical for a student." The teacher indicated it, making Dudley take a look. It had two pens, a note pad, a photo frame, and desk tidy. He smiled; it was silver plated and engraved with the school's coat of arms.

"I think this will be good," Dudley said, nodding. "Thank you, sir." He paused. "Er... sir?"

"Yes?" His teacher peered at him.

"We know why I'm here. So... why are you in here?"

"Ah, well, that would be because I like the soap and aftershave that's sold here," Gawlinski confessed with a smile, holding up the boxes.

Dudley peered at it and shrugged, buying some soap for himself. He didn't need the aftershave just yet.

"Copycat!" Gawlinski teased, making the boy laugh as they both walked to the shopkeeper to pay for their things.

"Imitation is the highest form of flattery, sir," Dudley replied.

"Except in essays," said the man quite seriously.

"We know, sir. You've said it over and over and over again," Dudley said before he recited, "'A person's soul goes into their craft! Stealing someone's work is like stealing their soul! There's no reasoning with people who will sink so low as to steal souls! I will fail anyone who plagiarizes, no exceptions! There will be no soul stealing in my class!'"

Gawlinski blinked a few times and grumbled, "I have not said it _that_ frequently... have I?"

"Well," Dudley said, grinning, "I _did_ just say your plagerism speech word for word, sir."

"... Shush!" Gawlinski said, making Dudley laugh. "Well, I'll see you in class tomorrow, Dudley. Don't stay up too late. Don't want you sleeping in class." He gave a devious grin, "Well, not in _my_ class, anyway."

"I won't," Dudley replied, smiling. "Have a good evening, sir."

"You too." The two separated and Dudley returned to his dorm where his cousin's owl was still patiently waiting. He put down his purchases and jotted on his letter.

_PS: It's not a quill, but I hope it helps the writing issue a bit!_

"There we go," he murmured, tying the city desk and letter together. He handed them to the owl, who looked suspiciously like she was sniffing Dudley's new soap.

She hooted and took the parcel from him before nipping him affectionately on the fingers... and then flew not to the window... but to his soap?!

"Hey! No!" Dudley yelped, but it was too late. The owl had taken the soap with one of her powerful talons and with a hoot that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, she had flown off into the night. "You soap thief!" He called through the window.

He pouted a moment before shrugging and reading more books about programming.

The next week passed relatively quickly, with Dudley focusing on classes and activities. Gawlinski had pointed out an error in their history game and so they were busy fixing dialogue and the like.

Plus he had finished his history project. The teacher in charge of the video department had been very helpful and Dudley had been surprised at how much work went into just a few minutes of a show. He had done a "Live from Hadrian's Wall" broadcast, getting some help from the people he knew in boxing and the chess club by having them act as the workers and Romans. It had been fun to do mock interviews and the like. He had earned one of the highest marks for it and everyone in the class had had a good laugh and actually paid attention to the project.

Add that to the fact that he had actually won a few games in chess club, and one could say that Dudley was very happy. It got even better at the end of the week, when he saw a certain snowy owl waiting for him once more with a heavy parcel.

"Hullo soap thief," Dudley said.

The owl hooted and Dudley smiled and took the package, reading the letter first.

_Dear Dudley,_

_You are a life saver. The pens made my life so much easier for every class. A lot of my classmates want them now. I guess no one realized how much work went into dipping the quill until we stopped doing it! And the notebook helps with notes, even though they do get me slightly confused looks by the people from families that don't know anything about the Muggle world._

None of that matters for Potions, though. Snape is still an utter git. I swear, he won't be happy unless I type my essays or something, but electricity doesn't work here so I can't exactly use a computer to print them. He really seems to hate me specifically for some reason.

I'm also jealous you have a good teacher for history. Maybe you can help me out! I gave you a copy of our textbook, A History of Magic. I hope you like it!

Defense Against the Dark Arts is a class here. It teaches us about Dark creatures and wizards and spells and how to combat them. But Professor Quirrell is scared of his own subject (and shadow!) and stutters so much in the class that it's hard to learn anything.

Dudley blinked. Muggle? Well, if Harry was a wizard, it would make sense for them to have a name for people without no electricity? He would die! And why would a teacher hate only Harry when his cousin hadn't even known about magic until the summer? As for helping Harry, he didn't know how different magical history was, but history was history. The past was the past and history was for studying it, all of it. And he had the textbook... Dudley forced himself to finish the letter and not rip open the book and start comparing magical history to what he was learning.

And a teacher that was scared of his own subject was just weird. Dudley shrugged and continued reading the letter.

_You're boxing now? I think I'll be staying out of arm's reach this summer then! _

"Oh jeez..." Dudley muttered, blushing. He could quite clearly recall the 'Harry Hunting!' days and he felt ashamed now.

But why hadn't anyone stopped him? He must have looked like such a git to everyone! He sighed and didn't even realize he was absentmindedly petting the owl as he read.

_My best friend Ron loves playing chess too. Wizard chess isn't like normal chess though. It's like conducting troops. You tell them where to go and they fight on the board. It's interesting to watch, but I'm not very good at playing._

Dudley could relate. He smiled a bit.

_I'd really like to see the game you're making. But I am curious... why did you send me soap too? Not that I'm ungrateful, because I needed some, but how did you know?_

He gave the owl a slight glare, "You took my soap because Harry needed some? Doesn't the school stock it?"

The owl hooted in a way that Dudley was sure meant 'I liked your soap better.'

"But it was mine!" Dudley protested.

Another hoot.

And then the boy realized he was trying to argue with an owl. He made a face and returned to the letter.

_Let me know what you think of the book and thanks again! Hope to read more from you soon!_

_Sincerely,_

_Harry_

More writing was under it but it wasn't Harry's.

_Dear Dudley, _

_I'm Harry's friend Ron. It's nice to meet you. Well, through letters anyway. Is it possible for us to get more of those "pen" things you sent to Harry? They're great! And those Muggle sweets were delicious too! Especially the "Twix" ones. _

_Maybe one day we can play a game of chess. I think it'd be fun. Wish we had a chess club here. Wonder if anyone would join if we asked about starting one. Thanks for the idea!_

_Sincerely,_

_Ron Weasley_

Dudley blinked in surprise and smiled. Pens were cheap in bulk, that wasn't a problem.

As for chess... He grinned and looked at his cousin's owl. "I have an idea," he said, swearing she knew what he was saying. "But I can't send it out until tomorrow. Will you be around?"

An affirmative hoot and a light nip of his fingers.

"Okay, thanks owl."

Another hoot and the bird flew off.

Dudley grinned and took out the book that Harry had sent him. It was massive and he spent most of the night devouring the fascinating information, so fixated on reading that he didn't even realize when he had finally gone to sleep until he woke up, his face in the book, and his alarm clock loudly ringing.

Classes flew by until lunch time. He headed to the school shop and bought a few pens in bulk; not fancy ones but they would be more than enough for a while. He also bought some Mars Bars for Harry and some Twix bars for Ron.

After the afternoon classes finished, he went to Gawlinski's office to ask him for two chess sets. He even offered to pay for them.

"You want to keep both?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yes," Dudley admitted. "I want to play a long distance game with someone..."

"And they don't have one," Gawlinski said, nodding before he smiled. "I'm guessing this is for you and your cousin that you write to?"

Dudley nodded, figuring that it'd just be easier that way. And it wasn't a lie, he _was _sending the owl to Harry.

"Do you know how to play long distance chess?"

"You write the moves on your letter right?"

Gawlinski nodded. "And you move the pieces when you get the next move. It takes more time but I think it's a good cause. I'll give you two of our older sets, no charge. They're a bit worn down, but they're more than sufficient for your purpose."

"Thank you, sir!" Dudley said, grinning as the man handed over the chess sets.

"Thank _you_," Gawlinski said with an amused grin. "Now I can convince the Headmaster that we need more chess sets!"

Dudley laughed and, after paying a quick visit to Jake and playing a computer game for a bit, returned to his dorm to put the sweets, pens, and chess sets down. Then he went for a run and right to dinner, where he and Jake discussed the new dialogue set and graphics issues they were having. It was tiring to head to the gym after they worked on it for a bit, but it was a good workout.

Especially because, for once, the speed bag didn't hit him in the face.

After his workout, tired and sweaty despite it being the middle of November, the boy finally got around to writing his letter back to Harry after wrapping the chess set, pens and sweets up.

_Dear Harry (and Ron if you're there),_

_I'll start this letter by saying "Pawn to E4." We'll play a long distance game. It isn't your wizard chess, but the pieces will stay in their spots until we get each other's answers, so it's actually a benefit in this case._

_Magical history is fascinating. From the tiny amount I was able to read last night, some of it is actually tied in with a lot of our legends. It's amazing to realize legends were more accurate than our explanations now. It's really quite interesting to read and I'm really glad you sent it!_

_The man that came to get you this summer, Mr. Pig Tail Giver, said you were famous, Harry. Maybe this Professor Snape hates you because of that. If he keeps giving you a hard time and all of that, then lodge a formal complaint. You pay tuition to learn and if he's too busy being a git instead of a teacher, maybe he needs to be reminded about that fact._

_It's weird that you have a teacher that's scared of his own subject, though. They're supposed to be professionals in it, aren't they? But I'm glad you enjoy the other classes._

_As for the soap, your bird took it. I think she liked how it smelled. I'm telling you Harry, she's a very intelligent owl. It's almost disturbing. We argued and I think she might have won..._

_And don't worry about being out of arm's reach. Harry Hunting days are long over. I'm really sorry I was such a git. Hurting someone for amusement isn't funny. Took a while for the lesson to sink in, especially since nobody at home seems to think that way. I wonder why._

_As for the game Jake and I are making, it's a history game. Are you really surprised? I'll let you try it out on my computer this summer. Ron too, if he's interested and pays a visit to the house._

_Hope everything is going well for both of you, hope you like the sweets and pens and write back soon! We have a chess game to finish!_

_Sincerely,_

_Dudley_

He put the letter with the package and turned as a hoot sounded.

"There you are," he said with a smile. "Thanks for waiting. It's a bit bulky, but not too heavy. Can you manage it?"

The owl hefted the package experimentally and gave an affirmative hoot.

"Well, off you go then. And thank you again."

Another hoot and the owl flew off. Dudley watched it fly before flopping onto his bed and pulling out the history book Harry had sent him and began reading.

This time, however, he made sure to force himself to close the book before going to sleep.


	3. Birds, Gifts and Snow

November and part of December passed in a flurry of activities and letters and reading.

Harry's owl (Her name was Hedwig, Harry had informed Dudley) was getting quite the workout flying from Smeltings to Hogwarts so often. She didn't seem to mind though, which was nice since Dudley found that he actually really enjoyed writing to his cousin. He suspected it was mutual; after all, Harry wrote back.

It made Dudley feel a bit special. The man who had given him a pig's tail (and yes, sometimes the area still twitched and the like, making Dudley swear it was somehow still there sometimes) had said Harry was famous. Odds were his cousin received lots of mail from people and so for him to reply back even after all Dudley had done to him was nice.

His friends wrote too, meaning Dudley had quite a correspondence and saw quite a few owls.

Though he was still wary about magic because of the man with the pink umbrella, he could deal with a few things like books and sweets and owls.

Without owls, he wouldn't have pen pals, after all. His cousin's two friends were interesting. There was Ron, who loved chess and Hermione, who loved knowledge of all sorts. It was for this reason that, at her request, Dudley had sent her a photocopy of an article about Nicolas Flamel a few days ago, asking if the magical world really had Alchemy with it. Her reply had made him smile.

_Dudley,_

_You are amazing! I had no idea the Muggle world knew about Nicolas Flamel too! Some things in the article aren't completely accurate, but it pointed us in the right direction. Thank you so so much! I'm sending you a copy of the article in our book about him, you'll be astonished at the differences!_

_Thank you again!_

_Hermione_

Apparently she really liked Alchemy or something, since she had been quite excited.

A day after this, the first game of long distance chess had ended with this short letter sent by Ron through a school owl:

_D,_

_Queen to F4. Checkmate! That was great. I've never played long distance chess before. So..._

_Please hurry with the next game!_

_Ron_

Dudley had laughed at that and quickly penned a reply back since it was late enough for him to do so. He quickly fixed his chessboard and wrote:

_Ron,_

_That was a fun game. It was my first time playing long distance chess too._

_So that means we have to start for the second time. Here goes:_

_Pawn to D4!_

_D_

But just because Harry's two friends were also writing to Dudley now didn't mean Harry had stopped.

In fact, the two cousins would still send each other various things, like books and pens or quills. Dudley had found a nice old-fashioned fountain pen for Harry one weekend when roaming around the shops near Smeltings; there was a small second-hand shop that seemed to have the oddest things, but they were affordable and so Dudley didn't complain (and he could actually get clothes from there he could afford with his pocket money that didn't droop on him! Honestly, why did his clothes keep getting so large?!). He had gotten the same style of pen for Ron and Harry's other friend Hermione too. The three were pleased; now they didn't have to waste their ink nor did they have to dip them constantly.

Dudley was reading over the latest, very long, letter written in said pen now.

_Hey Dudley,_

_**SNAPE IS THE BIGGEST GIT IN THE ENTIRE GALAXY!**_

Oh dear. What had the man done to his younger cousin now? Harry's scrawl on the first line was so deep and furiously written that Dudley could see he had almost broken through the parchment; it was a sure sign of how furious Harry was. Dudley continued reading.

_Do you know what that stupid jerk did!? I did like you said and filed a formal complaint. We had to look up all these old law books that smelled like moldy cheese but we finally found how to do it. So we told the Deputy Headmistress because the book said we had to work up the chain of command and that was easy because she's our Head of House, Professor McGonagall._

_She's really strict, but at least she's fair._

_Anyway, so we went to her and she said she'd talk to him. And she did but he ignored her. We told other students to do it too, since the book said one complaint doesn't do very much. Apparently hundreds of people hate him because she was bombarded with student visits and the line went around the corridor!_

_HE GAVE EVERYONE DETENTION FOR, I QUOTE, "Being foolish enough to waste another teacher's time."_

_So we went to the next person, Headmaster Dumbledore, like the book said. He said he'd talk to Snape and that just made things WORSE. He even began Vanishing our potions in class! That's SABOTAGE Dudley! SABOTAGE!_

_So finally we went to the Board of Governors and this stupid boy's father, this boy named Draco Malfoy who is just as annoying as Snape, his father apparently threatened to curse the Board if they got rid of Snape._

_CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?! And stupid Snape had the nerve to smirk and his stupid Slytherins laughed! We were stuck for a while but someone helped us out. A really nice girl in my year, Susan Bones, in Hufflepuff, she found me after Herbology and told me that her aunt, Amelia Bones, is the head of Magical Law Enforcement for the Ministry and she told her aunt what Lucius Malfoy did to the Board of Governors and she got that jerk removed sent to Azkaban for six months because of extortion and told us to try our complaints again._

_Now Malfoy is being more of a git than ever, swearing revenge for what we supposedly did to his father, but on the bright side, Snape's on probation! So now he has to be fair in class with points and everything or he'll be fired. _

_But git that he is, he STILL gives me detention for things like breathing too loudly or being outside. He'd probably give me one for existing if he had his way plus he tried to get past the three-headed dog on Halloween! I saw him in the staff room when I was trying to get a book he wrongfully took from me back and his leg was all mangled. _

_Oh, you don't know-there was a troll here on Halloween and well, with what you sent to Hermione... the Philosopher's Stone is REAL, Dudley. It's real, it's here at Hogwarts, and we think that Snape is trying to take it for himself. _

_And I almost got tossed from my broom my first Quidditch game and Hermione told me Snape was jinxing the broom. What we're suspecting is that Snape must have worked for Voldemort or something and Ron thinks he's trying to finish me off. _

_So ever since then, that git's been giving me detentions. You name it, I get detention for it. Today I got detention for "Walking with your left foot first" and he gave me a "D" which stands for Dreadful on an essay I spent all week on because "it was a horrible pathetic essay and very illegible."_

_I even wrote in print, Dudley, not cursive, and had people check over it. It was fine and he just gave me this horrible smirk as he passed it back to me._

_What a jerk. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM SO MUCH. Without him and Binns, Hogwarts would probably be perfect._

_Hope you're well and thanks for letting me vent,_

_Harry_

Dudley frowned. He didn't know this Professor Snape, nor was he a Hogwarts student, but Dudley already didn't like the man.

Unlike his poor cousin's Potions grades, however, Dudley's grades were the best they had ever been. History, he was a top student but to his surprise, he had managed to get better in English-perhaps some of the tips he had sent to Harry sunk in or just the fact he was reading more had helped. All of his grades had vastly improved with Jake's tutoring and his hard work.

How had he survived Smeltings without Jake before, Dudley had no idea. They had a lot of fun playing games in the computer lab as well as playing chess and Jake was even dragging Dudley to these odd "robotics" meetings that had started at the beginning of December.

In Dudley's humble opinion, robots were definitely very cool. And though the boys were busy with that new interest, they still made a lot of headway in their historically-accurate game, having managed to completely design their first level, but it was so difficult getting the music and graphics the way they wanted!

Gawlinski had been amused by the game and had made more than a few corrections making both boys groan.

"No one has ever drowned in sweat, boys. And you're sitting, not even sweating," the man would often tease gently, quite amused by their reactions.

"It's still hard!" Both Jake and Dudley would complain.

"Nothing in this world that's worth having comes easy, gentlemen. Now then, let's get these graphics working properly, shall we?"

Needless to say, both boys would good-naturedly grumble and try to fix what was wrong.

On the bright side, at least they knew their battle scenes were also accurate. Though it was disturbing when Gawlinski frowned and said that swords stabbing into people did not sound that way and neither did muskets being fired.

Neither Dudley nor Jake had the courage to ask how their teacher would know what it actually sounded like. And they had ample time to, of course; they were both still in chess club, after all. And though Dudley was still losing most times at chess, he was still having a lot of fun. Plus, his boxing training was going great! He was learning how to move around-they called it "dancing" but Dudley sure wasn't wearing a top hat or moving to any dance beat! This was ducking and moving away from hits and staying on his toes and moving to confuse people. And though it left him exhausted and out of breath, he felt that boxing was a sport he would not only excel in, but also enjoy.

It was a Saturday afternoon in mid-December now, and nearly a meter of snow covered the grounds of Smeltings. Dudley was in his dorm, a bit excited. Christmas holidays were soon and yesterday he had finally managed to get the last of presents for everyone.

Jake was getting some sweets and a few packs of cards for an odd game he played. Dudley didn't know much about it, but he thought the cards looked cool. His mother Petunia was getting a new apron and oven mitt. His father Vernon was getting a new tie and cufflinks. He had gotten his teachers small things as well, like coffee or sweets. And he had gotten Harry and his two friends some things too: Hermione would be getting a rather nice notebook. Ron would be getting some Twix bars and a really cool black t-shirt with a king piece from chess on it with a design behind it. As for Harry...

Yesterday evening, at the same small shop he had bought the fountain pens, he had found the perfect gift for Harry. An old-fashioned _typewriter_ which meant that there wouldn't be any more complaints about his cousin's handwriting since it would work in the school, no electricity needed. Though how Harry lived without electricity, Dudley still had no idea. He really suspected he would go insane.

Unfortunately, the typewriter was very heavy. Too heavy for his cousin's owl, that he knew. He had bought a ribbon for it but he was worried it wouldn't be enough, so he knew he'd have to try to find more. But he was sure Harry would appreciate it and some sweets and the red lion t-shirt as well. Dudley had read about the Houses and knew their symbols and was sure Harry would appreciate the shirt.

He had just bought the sweets and returned to his room, making sure he was packed for the holiday and wondering how to get Harry's gift to him when the snowy owl flew in and hooted at him.

"Hey Hedwig," said Dudley, looking at the owl with a sigh. "I found a gift for Harry that I think he'll like, but I think it's too heavy for you."

The owl hooted questioningly and Dudley indicated the typewriter. Another pleased hoot that Dudley was sure meant 'Harry will like it.' She tried to heft it up and hooted sadly.

"I know," he said, sighing. "No way in the world you can get this to him, is there?"

Hedwig was quiet a moment before she hooted excitedly.

"There is a way?" Dudley asked, surprised.

The snowy owl hooted once more, taking the smaller parcels, hooting at Dudley happily and flying off into the night quickly.

"Oookay then..." The boy shrugged and looked at Harry's present with a sigh before reading more and going to sleep.

The next day was the last class day for Smeltings before the holiday and Dudley was a bit sad to be packing up. It was only two weeks but if it would be anything like the last holiday, he would have to deal with his mother's shrieking about his clothes falling off and trying to stuff him and his father still bothering him about when he would start a boxing match plus probably bother him more about a robotics meet.

His parents would be arriving for him the next morning, bright and early. Dudley finished packing his things away into the trunk, leaving his outfit for the next day out, and wondered how on earth he was going to hide Harry's present from his parents' prying eyes.

And then the boy froze, listening.

Music was coming from somewhere. Dudley blinked, confused; the music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on his scalp and made his heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Dudley felt it vibrating inside his own ribs, flames erupted at the top of his bedpost.

A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the room. Dudley would have panicked that someone heard it, but he felt too brave to worry. The bird had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock's and gleaming golden talons. It hopped to his desk and Dudley could see it had a long, sharp golden beak and beady black eyes.

The bird stopped singing and stared steadily at Dudley before nudging his hand gently. Its feathers were warm.

A hoot from the window made Dudley turn to see Hedwig and he heard another gentle strange song from the crimson bird.

"... This is how Harry's going to get his present?" Dudley asked, slightly dubious as he looked at Hedwig before indicating the crimson bird.

An affirmative hoot from the snowy owl and another song from the crimson bird.

"Erm... it's a bit heavy..." Dudley gave a worried look to the bird. "You sure you can handle it?"

A proud song from the bird and it gently nuzzled Dudley's hand as if to reassure him.

"All right," said Dudley. "I couldn't exactly wrap it, but his other things are wrapped right on top of it, okay? They have to stay together. Is that all right?"

The bird gently sang once more and placed a gleaming talon on the typewriter, wrapped t-shirt and sweets. It sung gently once more and Hedwig hooted from the window as Dudley watched, flames erupted once more around the crimson bird and it, along with Harry's gift, was gone.

Dudley swallowed hard, feeling a bit sick and nervous. He couldn't help looking over his shoulder after the display with the fire, pressing his hand nervously towards his backside.

Magic at a distance was fine. Books and birds and letters, also fine. But displays like that, close up...

The boy tried to hold back a shudder as he sat on his bed. He hadn't even said anything that entire time in the Hut on the Rock. Yet when his father had angered the huge man, it had been Dudley he had attacked.

And with Harry's parents, had they not tried to kill Harry?

What was it with magical people targeting children? Before Dudley could think more on this, and still a bit anxious from the fire display, Hedwig hooted and flew off. Dudley looked up as one of his dorm mates entered.

"Hey D," he said, blinking curiously. "Window up in this weather? You okay? And what station did you have the radio on?"

"Oh... yeah, thought I saw a cool bird," said Dudley slowly, standing to shut the window, noticing his hand shaking slightly. It was a faint tremor and only noticeable to him because he had lifted his hand to close to window. "Sorry about that. And if the music disturbed you."

"It's fine. And it was weird but I think I liked it. What band was it?"

"I don't know," said Dudley, managing a nonchalant shrug. "I think it was a commercial jingle or something. I liked it too."

"Well, I'm going to sleep. Parents coming early tomorrow. Hope you have a good holiday."

"You too," said Dudley, turning out his light too and sleeping. The frenzied rush of packing and constant moving made Dudley glad he had packed all of his things the night before. He hugged his parents and they helped him move his trunk to the car. The boy waved goodbye to his classmates and their parents.

"Oh _Dudders_," moaned his mother, sighing as she watched him remove his thick coat since the inside of the car was hot thanks to the heater. "Vernon, look at him, he's half the size he used to be! They're starving him!"

"I'm _fine_ Mum," said Dudley, sighing and shaking his head.

"Atta boy, Dudley," his father said, grinning. "Don't worry Pet, I never went hungry at Smeltings, the servings are good. Now then..." His father turned on the radio and began to drive home.

While he drove, Vernon complained to Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, the council, the bank... today it was people doing holiday shopping or not properly shoveling the snow.

Dudley looked out the window, thinking, before asking quietly, "Will Harry be home for the holiday?"

His father nearly crashed the car, and his mother answered, "No, and good riddance to bad rubbish, I say."

"Sure," replied Dudley quietly, nodding and returning his gaze out the window. He still didn't understand it. If his parents disliked Harry so much, disliked magic, why would they have let Harry live with them? Why not with a magical family that would be happy to have him?

They reached the snow-covered street of Privet Drive and pulled up into the driveway. Huffing and puffing a bit, Vernon and Dudley brought his trunk up to his room while Petunia made hot chocolate. His father went downstairs and Dudley went to unpack when a gentle trill made him jump.

The crimson bird was sitting atop his bed.

Dudley's eyes widened and he quickly shut the door. "Are you _mental_?" He whispered. "You can't be here, my mum and dad will have a fit!"

The bird tilted its head and sang softly once more.

"Shhhhh!" Dudley said, wringing his hands nervously and slowly opening his door to make sure neither of his parents heard his visitor. He turned back and walked cautiously towards the bird, which held up a tightly wrapped scroll in its gleaming talons.

Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before was the following:

_Dear Typewriter Giver,_

Dudley couldn't repress an amused chuckle at that and he continued reading.

_I'm sorry to disturb you, but I thought it prudent you knew of the changes I made to your present using runes._

"Runes?" Dudley muttered, confused. Runes were just an old alphabet, weren't they? Before the Latin alphabet became embedded in culture... he would have to ask Gawlinski for more details, since they hadn't really touched on languages much.

The bird sang and Dudley jumped.

"Shhhhhhh!" He said once more, looking at the bird with worry and checking for his parents once more. Sighing in relief, he returned his attention to the scroll.

_The typewriter will now be much lighter, will be silent and will not need refills for the ink. And I must thank you for giving Fawkes something to do. He has been most bored lately, taking even to stealing my socks because he thinks I am not watching. Quite the naughty phoenix, don't you agree?_

"Fawkes?" Dudley looked up towards the crimson bird. "You're a _phoenix?_" He stated the last word with obvious disbelief.

The bird preened happily and piped its odd music once more. "Oh no. Shhhh! Fawkes, no! Quiet! Bad phoenix!"

Giving him what Dudley was sure was a sulking look, the phoenix obeyed.

"Dudders?" Petunia's voice called upstairs. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes Mum!" Dudley called back, giving Fawkes a _look_. "I'm fine, was just a game I unpacked!"

"Hot chocolate's almost ready! Then you can go out and play with your friends, I'm sure they missed you!"

Dudley sighed, looking towards his ceiling as if asking for patience, and called, "I'll be down in a bit, Mum!" He turned to the phoenix that was still on his bed and returned his attention to the scroll.

_I would not mind a pen pal, if you are agreeable. It may save my socks, quills, robes and what little is left of my sanity from a bored phoenix. Replying, of course, is entirely up to you._

_Have a very Merry Christmas._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus D._

"So he sticks me with the bored phoenix..." muttered Dudley, blinking curiously. "I guess he must be a prefect staying for the holiday or something, since Harry's gift went through him first."

Fawkes sang loudly and for some reason, Dudley _swore_ the phoenix was laughing.

"You can't sing here, Mum and Dad will have a fit if they see you," said Dudley to the bird sternly. "This is a... a... I don't know, anti-magic zone or something." He paced for a moment, looking at the scroll in his hand. He had three pen pals and he _did_ like letters...

One more pen pal couldn't hurt. He just hoped the phoenix didn't keep singing!

Dudley walked over to his desk and beckoned Fawkes to join him.

_Dear Albus,_

_My name is Dudley. Thanks for making the changes to Harry's present. It'll be a lot easier for him to use now! And thanks for telling me, so if he mentions it, at least I know beforehand and won't be confused._

_Why a phoenix for a pet if he's so naughty and loud?_

An indignant squawk sounded from next to him and Dudley looked up from his lined paper at Fawkes. Was the bird reading his letter?

No... that couldn't be...

Could it?

The beady black eyes peered back at Dudley and the boy began to write once more.

_You mentioned runes were used for Harry's present, but I only know of runes as an old-fashioned alphabet before the Latin alphabet was common. I was going to ask my history teacher more about it back in school, but are they different in magic?_

_Also, I have a question for you. It is of the utmost importance. Ready?_

… _Do you play chess?_

_Have a Merry Christmas and I hope a certain phoenix doesn't stay bored very long. Perhaps I'll send you some socks if he keeps taking them!_

_Sincerely,_

_Dudley D._

Fawkes sung softly and gently rubbed his head against Dudley's hand. "Here you go," said the boy to the phoenix, handing the letter over. He winced, waiting, and was not disappointed when Fawkes vanished in an eruption of flames that did not do any damage.

He couldn't repress the fear that made him quiver slightly though. What if the fire one day _did_ do damage? He closed his eyes, loathing the fear in him.

Perhaps he could ask Fawkes to flame away outside or something. Sighing, the boy stood up and went downstairs to where his mother was waiting with a broad smile and hot chocolate.

"Oh _Dudders,_" she said, rushing over and hugging him. "It's so lovely to see you, I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you too, Mum," Dudley replied, hugging her back. He accepted a mug of hot chocolate and sat with his father on the sofa, where they talked about Smeltings and, of course, his father began asking yet again about when he would be competing in matches for boxing.

He was not, however, as encouraging when it came to Dudley playing chess.

"Not a real sport or anything," the man grunted, mustache bristling. "But if you enjoy it, I guess that's good."

Dudley nodded and after finishing his hot chocolate returned to his room. He was going to try and sneak some reading of the magical history book but a thud on his window when he went to his trunk made him jump and the window rattle.

Another thud made him walk to the rattling window. Snowballs? Dudley looked outside, where he could see four people. He could recognize them even in their winter coats: Piers, Dennis, Malcolm and Gordon.

For some reason, as he looked at them, Dudley had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Why he would feel so strange as he looked at his friends, he didn't know, but he had a bad feeling about going outside...

He steeled himself and left his room. "Mum, I'm going to head outside, okay?" Dudley put on his winter coat and hat.

"I'll be in here cooking dinner Duddykins!" Petunia said, hugging him tight. "Have fun!"

"I'll try." Dudley walked outside.

It was still snowing and it muffled his steps a bit, making it a bit hard to walk. "Hey guys," he said calmly, looking over them.

"Hey Dudley," Piers said, looking irritated.

What was he irritated for? Dudley had no idea; he had just gotten home!

"So you're still at Smeltings?" Dennis asked, sneering at him.

Dudley nodded slowly. His internal warning to leave, to back away, honed now from practicing fighting a lot, was practically shouting at him. He took a step back but was pelted in the face with snowballs...

Loaded snowballs.

"Ow!" Dudley shouted, falling over and covering his face while his old friends pelted him with snowballs, some having been packed with ice, others with rocks.

"You think you're better than us, you chicken?" Gordon shouted. "Your dad would've gotten us out, he knows the headmaster!"

"You can't blame me for your expulsion!" retorted Dudley, rolling away from their attack and managing to get up a bit, panting.

"You're a freak just like your stupid cousin," snapped Piers. "You used to be cool and tough. _Now_ look at you. And everyone says _I'm_ scrawny!"

To Dudley's surprise, his friend was right; he and Piers, compared to the others, _did_ look smaller. He backed away as they advanced. "Leave me alone," Dudley said, looking at them. He showed no fear, would not give them that satisfaction.

"I don't think we want to do that. Snobs and people that let their friends go to St. Brutus's gotta be taught a lesson," said Gordon.

"And you know, so do stupid little nerds that think they're better 'cause they get good grades," said Piers, making the others laugh and Malcolm tried to tackle Dudley while Piers was talking, but Dudley was ready now. He punched the other boy hard and then began to run.

Shouts rang out from behind him as snowballs once more began to pelt him and the others chased him. The boy ran, hopping small walls, not caring if he was in a yard or not, running through the streets, slipping and sliding on the snow, but his old friends were chasing him relentlessly.

He would never, Dudley vowed as he ran, do this to his poor cousin ever again. _Never_.

A loud hiss from next to him made him jump and for a moment, Dudley thought a small tiger had lunged towards Piers, who was right behind Dudley.

"Argh!" The boy screamed, Dudley turning to face them, glancing around briefly. He was on Wisteria Walk, in someone's yard. Well, next to it.

More yowls joined the one hissing and Dudley turned. There were cats, loads of them, all hissing at the other boys.

"What is going on out here?!" A voice demanded, making Dudley and the other boys turn. "You boys, leave him alone! Don't you have anything better to do before Christmas?!"

"Your cat just scratched me!" Piers shouted.

"And I'll wallop you if you don't get off my property!" Mrs. Figg, the batty old woman who used to babysit Harry and had once or twice watched Dudley, shouted, glaring menacingly at the boys.

"... Come on," Gordon said to Piers.

Dudley watched his old friends leave, his racing heart beginning to slow a bit, though he jumped when something furry nudged his hand and began to purr loudly.

The massive cat that had attacked Piers was nuzzling him.

"Thanks," said Dudley to the cat, who purred. He looked up at Mrs. Figg, who was looking at him strangely. "Er... sorry about that, Mrs. Figg. I didn't mean to bother you. But... thanks."

"Those boys were bothering you?" Mrs. Figg asked, looking over Dudley. "I thought you were friends?"

"It's... It's a long story," Dudley said, sighing and petting the cat, who purred louder.

"I've got time," said Mrs. Figg. "Come on inside and have some tea. Those boys are probably waiting around the corner anyway."

Dudley nodded and gratefully followed the old lady inside, smiling at the large cat that walked alongside him. Mrs. Figg's house smelled like cabbage and she had a lot of cats, but Dudley wasn't going to complain after the woman's presence and her cats had saved him from his old friends.

She served him tea while the large cat jumped on his lap and purred. As Dudley pet it, he told Mrs. Figg about his friends-how they had attempted a so-called prank that nearly killed someone and were expelled for it and, it seemed, they somehow blamed him.

"So now they think I betrayed them because I'm still at Smeltings," said Dudley flatly, sipping his tea. "They're trying to make fun of me for getting good grades and all of that. My dad knows the Headmaster, so they think I should've said something to stop their expulsion."

"Well, you couldn't have stopped that. They're just acting foolish. It'll pass."

"I hope so," said Dudley with a sigh. "The last thing I want is for things to happen every time I'm home because they're being stupid."

Mrs. Figg nodded, sipping her tea, "So they just bother you about this? Not Harry?"

"Oh, he opted to stay at Ho-er, his school for Christmas," said Dudley, almost having slipped and saying Harry's school's name. "His friend's family is visiting one of their sons in another country, so Harry stayed there. I hope they don't drag Harry into this when he's home though..." Dudley frowned, thinking. It'd be wise to give his cousin a warning. Perhaps after Christmas...

"His friend?" Mrs. Figg looked at Dudley, surprised. "You talk to each other?"

"We write," admitted Dudley with a slightly embarrassed smile and shrug. "His friends are pretty nice. They write too."

The woman sipped her tea, looking at the young man over her mug, before she spoke, "I'm glad you're getting along better. Family's important."

Dudley blinked curiously, peering at her. He hadn't ever heard that when it came to Harry. His parents always complained about him, after all.

".. Why?" he asked quietly.

The woman looked thoughtful, "Why is it important?" When Dudley nodded, she said, "Because it's something you don't realize you need and want until you don't have it. Even when they're mean to you because you aren't like them. Even when they're horrid and you loathe them... they're your family. In the end, no matter how much you want to deny it sometimes... there they are. It's something that even if your world turns upside down, it will never change."

Dudley looked at her, wondering. He never saw Mrs. Figg's family, now that he thought about it. He peered into his mug. "Guess we all take it for granted, don't we?"

"You'd be surprised what people take for granted," she said, chuckling. "I'm glad you two are getting along better though."

"Yeah," agreed Dudley with a smile. "He really likes his school too, just like I like mine. And so do his friends. Well, I think they do, I mean, they complain about some things, but otherwise they like it."

"That's good." She watched Dudley pet the cat for a bit and they finished their tea. "Do you want me to walk you home?"

"Oh no, I'll be fine," Dudley said with a smile. "Thanks, Mrs. Figg. And thank you." He said this to the cat, who purred and nuzzled him. He put on his coat and hat and gloves.

"Be careful," Mrs. Figg said, looking at Dudley sternly. "Call when you get home."

"I will. Have a good night, Mrs. Figg!" With that, Dudley began his trek home, the snow still falling. He kept an eye out but it seemed the falling snow and enough time had passed so the the streets and sidewalks were empty and his old friends gone.

He had reached his house when he saw the long horrible scratch on his father's car and he glowered at it. Those _jerks_. Dudley had half a mind to find them and beat them for this; he knew who had done it after all. He took a calming breath and entered his house.

"Had a good time?" Petunia asked immediately, smiling at him.

"Hey Mum. I had an okay time, I was with Mrs. Figg-I have to call her to let her know I got home safe. Er... Dad? I think you should take a look at this..."

His father looked at him and shared a look with his mother before slowly nodding. He stood and grabbed his winter gear, following his son and had just said, "Dudley what is this all about?"

In answer, Dudley pointed to the car.

"MY CAR!" Vernon screamed, rushing to it and petting it. "Oh my poor car!"

_Do not laugh_, Dudley told himself sternly as his father continued cooing comfortingly to the car as if it were alive.

"Oh my poor baby!" Vernon wailed, continuing to rub at the scratch. "It might buff off. It might. We can fix it. We can fix it, definitely..." The surprise and sadness began to swiftly fade and he turned to Dudley, "Son, did you see who did this?!"

Dudley took a deep breath, "I didn't _see_ who did it, Dad, but I'm pretty sure I know who it was. Can I tell you inside?"

"Yeah," Vernon muttered, petting the car once more. "It's cold out here." He gently ushered Dudley in front of him and they went inside.

"What happened to the car?" Petunia asked instantly. "I heard you shouting all the way from the kitchen."

"Scratched," Vernon replied miserably, both he and Dudley taking off their winter gear.

"What? Who would do that?" Petunia asked.

Dudley replied quietly, "I think it was my old friends, Mum. They... we had a bit of a falling out, after they were expelled. They think Dad should have talked to the Headmaster."

"That's idiotic," Vernon blustered. "You weren't involved. I didn't even know what happened until they were home and then sent to St. Brutus's. Those little hooligans ruined my car!"

"Sorry..." Dudley mumbled, looking down.

"Oh it isn't your fault pumpkin," said Petunia quickly. "Come now, both of you. This is no way to spend our Dudley's time home. Don't worry about them one bit, we'll fix that car. Come on, dinner time and then we can relax together. Dudley, I called Mrs. Figg for you so you don't have to worry."

The boy smiled and followed both of his parents to the kitchen.

He didn't know how he would do it, but he had to find a way to get them back for scratching the car. Somehow...

But he pushed that thought to the side. Christmas was tomorrow and there was no way he was letting those jerks ruin his Christmas!


End file.
